"Ye'll never fool 'em," said O'Hara.
Matterson turned his back on him, and the work went forward, and for an hour there was only the low murmur of voices. The boat, now ready for the journey, rode at the end of her painter, where the current made long ripples, which converged at her bow. Here and there, lights shone in the clearing and set my imagination and my memory hard at work, but elsewhere the impenetrable blackness of a cloudy night blanketed the whole world. And meanwhile the others were holding council in the cabin.
"I think," Arnold Lamont said, "that Matterson and Gleazen underestimate the ingenuity and resources of that black yelling devil."
"So they do," said Abe Guptil. "So they do, and I'd be glad enough to be back home, I tell you."
What would I not have given to be sleeping once more in Abe's low-studded house beside our wholesome northern sea!
Now the others came from the cabin. They walked eagerly. Their very whispers were full of excitement. Even Uncle Seth seemed to have got from somewhere a new confidence and a new hope, so smartly did he step about and so sharply did he speak; and the faint odor of brandy that came with them explained much.
We climbed down into the loaded boat and settled ourselves on the thwarts, where Abe Guptil and I took oars.
"It's turn and turn about at the rowing," Matterson announced. "We've a long way to go and a current dead against us."
I saw Gideon North looking down at us anxiously, and waved my hand. Then someone cast off, and we pulled out into midstream and up above the brig, where we held our place and watched and waited.
Soon we heard orders on board the brig. Sails fell from the gaskets and shook free. The men began to heave at the windlass. The brig first came up to the anchors, then, with anchors aweigh, she half turned in the current.